


Kissed Altogether Wrong

by gremlins-came-and-got-me (Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (This is about Kate and Derek), BAMF Cora, Blogger Derek, Creep Kate, Kate Argent Warning, M/M, MMA Fighter Cora, Mostly Pre-Sterek, PTSD Derek, Reconciliation, Referenced Cora/GF, Referenced Non-Con Underage Sex, Referenced Rape of an (at the time) Underage Character, Semi-Bad Friend Scott, Youtuber Stiles, past Derek Hale/Kate Argent - Freeform, referenced rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 14:37:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14022405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark/pseuds/gremlins-came-and-got-me
Summary: Stiles is a Youtuber who unboxes toys. Derek runs a blog where he unboxes sex toys. They meet at a convention and hit it off.





	1. Cover

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from _Only the Lonely_ by The Motels.


	2. Story

~ * ~

Stiles stares unblinking at the mostly empty room. The panel doesn’t start for another twenty minutes, but the room is half-packed anyway. Scott and Stiles sit at the panelists’ table while the two moderators, a tall, broad woman with curly hair pulled into a tight ponytail, and mousy man with a gray beanie low over his eyes, work with the microphones.

From his seat, Stiles can see out into the hallway where a man—gorgeous, good bone structure, dark hair, and a mega-watt smile—Stiles’ type exactly—is signing things stuck in his face by his adoring crowd. By _Stiles’_ adoring crowd from the way they’re all decked out in geek fashion.

“Oh hey,” Scott says, leaning into Stiles’ personal space to stare at the attention hog outside, “you should totally get his number. He looks just like your type.”

“Shut up, Scott.” Stiles sulks, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the attention hog. He does not want the unfairly attractive man’s number he wants him to go to his own panel and stop stealing Stiles’ audience.

“Five minutes,” the curly-mod announces. “I’m going to give them the warning now.”

Stiles flashes her a grateful smile.

This is his first panel, and he’s nervous. He thinks it would be better if he could amuse himself by people-watching while he waits to speak, but thanks to the hot autograph signer, he doesn’t have enough time before the curly-mod returns with the last stragglers and then beanie-mod is introducing them.

Scott, who has done this a time or two, squeezes his shoulder reassuringly.

The atmosphere is jovial, inviting, and Stiles feels himself relaxing. He can do this. No sweat.

The curly-mod keeps the questions flowing, directing the audience with an expertise likely born of moderating many conventions over the years.

It’s fun and easy to present, answer the questions, and do a few unboxings for the audience.

Near the end of their panel, the door cracks open and the gorgeous-hot-attention hog pokes his head in.

Stiles falters over what he’s saying about the vintage Barbie and Ken dolls on the table right now. Scott seamlessly jumps in, taking over the explanations. He’s better at Mattel toys anyway.

“That’s all the time we have today, folks,” curly-mod says, adopting a sad tone. When Stiles looks back at the door, the man is gone.

Scott has another panel now for his cutesy BF-GF channel with Allison while Stiles is free for the rest of the afternoon. Scott nudges him.

“If you hurry, you can probably catch him.”

Stiles wants to pretend he doesn’t care, but goddamn it Scott knows him too well, and he leaps out of his seat.

“Good luck,” he says, moving quickly. He blows a kiss at Allison as she enters. Then he stops short because unfairly attractive attention hog is standing right outside the door, white faced and wide eyed.

“Hey,” Stiles says. The man shakes himself. “I’m Stiles. You are?”

“Derek.” They shake hands and Stiles raises an eyebrow at how soft Derek’s hand is.

“So, what brings you to the Con?”

“I had to present a panel,” Derek says, ducking his head shyly. Stiles stomps on his heart. He doesn’t know this man; he shouldn’t already be in love.

When Stiles falls, he falls hard and fast. He spent all of his high school years chasing after Lydia Martin, equal parts smart, terrifying, and beautiful. The only thing Derek doesn’t have that Lydia had is the ability to inspire terror in Stiles.

Derek (and Stiles) never stood a chance.

“Your channel is my favorite thing to watch,” Derek says casually, startling Stiles.

“Wait, what?”

“Your channel—your unboxing videos. I like them.”

“You’ve watched our channel?” Stiles squeaks.

Hot attention hog has watched Stiles freak out over a nostalgic (and sometimes embarrassing) toy?

The blood rushes to Stiles’ face, and all he can think to say is, “I’m sorry.”

Derek looks amused. “Why are you sorry? You’ve got great content.”

“Yeah, well, obviously you don’t know me well enough if you like the channel.”

“You don’t know me well enough if you don’t recognize me,” Derek counters.

“What’s your channel?” Stiles asks. “Maybe I came across it once.”

Now Derek blushes. “Uh, rain check?” he stutters.

Stiles laughs. “Nope. Now you _have_ to give it to me. It’s only fair that I get to watch you like you watched me.”

“It’s not a channel, really,” Derek hedges. “It’s a blog with videos and pictures.” His face gets ever redder, and Stiles worries that he’s going to either get a nosebleed or faint. “It’s sort of like yours except not.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, drawing the ‘a’ out. “You don’t have to give me the URL. It’s cool.”

Derek opens his mouth to respond only to be interrupted by a woman with shoulder length honey-brown hair and sparkling gray eyes. She tugs at the hem of Derek’s shirt.

“Can I get an autograph, sugar? And maybe some dinner?” She eyes him up and down appreciatively. “You grew up in _all_ the right places,” she remarks, hand cupping Derek’s groin.

“Hey!” Stiles steps between them, shouldering her away.

She only laughs at the miserable expression on Derek’s face, digging into a bag tied around her waist for a package that she then thrusts into his face.

If Stiles thought Derek’s face was red before, it’s nothing compared to now. The woman just handed Derek a dildo.

“Uh,” Stiles says.

“Come on, sweetie,” the woman encourages, sickly sweet. “You’re making me miss my niece’s panel. Just sign the damn thing. It’s not like you haven’t seen one of these before.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, still staring down at fourteen inches of sparkly red silicone. Stiles grabs it and passes it back to the woman.

“No thank you,” he says, taking Derek’s elbow and leading him away from her.

She laughs and heads into the room. Derek’s arm trembles under Stiles’ grip. He’s terrified, the poor guy.

Stiles gets him out into the lobby where there are more people, convention-goers decked out in custom t-shirts printed with the phrase “Well Hale’s Bells.” They all seem to recognize Derek and swarm them.

Derek makes a guttural sound deep in his throat, and Stiles hip checks a handsy gal with dyed red hair and large nose ring.

“Back it up,” the security guard says, stepping in front of Stiles and Derek and plowing a path through the bodies. He gets them to the door, and Stiles thanks him before he gets Derek outside and into a waiting taxi.

~ * ~

There is a bar a few blocks away that Scott told Stiles about. He gives the cab driver directions and then settles in, molding his hand to Derek’s, folding their fingers together.

Derek rouses while Stiles pays the fare.

“Thanks,” he says to his feet as they head inside.

The bar has a nice atmosphere with lighted globes handing from the ceiling and drink menus on every table. It’s classy. Scott has good taste. Stiles sends him a text to let him know where he is and what he’s doing. And, at 3:30 in the afternoon, there aren’t a whole lot of people here, and none of them give Derek or Stiles a second glance.

Stiles offers to buy something to eat, but Derek declines. He still looks shaken, miserable. Halfway through Stiles’ burger, he stands up and heads for the bathroom.

Stiles stays at the table for another two bites, frowns, and asks for a box. He scoops the rest of his food into the Styrofoam container, hurrying as best he can.

Derek is still in the bathroom when he finishes. It’s worrisome. Stiles drops some money on the table to cover his bill and a tip and goes looking for Derek.

He finds him sitting in a corner, phone against his ear. Derek is crying, curled in on himself. Nothing the person on the other end of the phone says seems to be helping.

Stiles kneels next to him, trying to ignore the gross out factor of holding food in a men’s bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” Derek mouths at him, and Stiles shakes his head. Derek has nothing to apologize for, he does wonder who that woman was to have rattled Derek this badly.

“He’s here,” Derek says. “Do you want to speak to him?” The person must answer affirmatively because Derek thrusts the phone at him.

Stiles takes it carefully, making sure their fingers don’t accidentally brush. Derek looks grateful about that.

“Hello?” Stiles says into the phone.

“Hi, yes,” a woman says. “Is this Stiles?”

“Yeah.”

“Hi, Stiles. I’m Laura. Derek’s sister.”

“Hi.”

“Stiles, can you tell me if Derek saw Kate today?”

“Uh,” Stiles thinks for a moment, “blondish-brown hair, gray eyes, shit attitude?”

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“Yeah, she approached him.”

Derek makes a little gasping sound, choking back a sob. Stiles offers his hand, his container of food discarded on the floor, and Derek latches on. He’s trembling still, but slowly it gets better while Laura interrogates Stiles and advises him on how to help Derek.

“If he doesn’t stop shaking, take him somewhere warm. See if you can’t get him to eat something; that usually helps too. Be careful though, he sometimes throws up during an episode. Give the phone back to Derek now. And Stiles? Thank you.”

Stiles doesn’t respond before he hands the phone to Derek, backing up quickly to give him an illusion of privacy.

“I’m fine,” Derek says. “It was a shock to see Kate again. I thought she still had five years left on her sentence.” Derek’s face goes gray and he starts shaking again. Stiles wants to ask what’s wrong, but he doesn’t know if it would be welcome.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Derek says. “Yes, Stiles is still here.” He thrusts the phone at Stiles, and he takes it.

“Get my brother to a hospital now,” Laura commands when Stiles confirms that he’s holding the phone again. “He’s going into shock. Can I trust you with something?” She barely waits for his affirmation before blurting, “Kate Argent tried to kill Derek when he was fourteen.”

Stiles bites his tongue hard.

Laura continues, adding, “She was using him, sexually and otherwise. I found out and got her thrown in prison. She was serving a twenty-five year sentence. She should still be incarcerated, even with good behavior. It’s only been ten years.”

“Not long enough,” Stiles agrees. He glances at Derek to find him watching him, gaze heavy, chest heaving with the force of his labored breaths. “Listen, I’m going to get Derek situated. I’ll have to call you back, or you can call me. I’ll text my number to you from this phone.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Laura says. “Oh, don’t forget to let the hospital know that he suffers from PTSD. He gets the proper treatment then.”

“Will do.”

Stiles hangs up and immediately sends a text with his number to Laura’s number. Then, he tucks Derek’s phone into his pocket and helps Derek to his feet.

“I thought it was just Allison,” Derek mumbles as Stiles moves him. “I would have been okay. Why was Kate there? Why is she out?”

“I don’t have any answers,” Stiles says, “but I can find out for you.”

Derek doesn’t seem to hear him, and Stiles worries. Kate has to be violating her parole if she is anywhere near Derek (and if she’s been released legally). All Stiles should have to do is alert the proper authorities.

There is a hospital on the other side of the hotel where the convention is located. Stiles flags down another taxi.

By the time they arrive at the entrance to the hospital, Derek is a little more aware. He climbs out of the cab on his own while Stiles pays the fare again.

It must be a slow day even with the convention in town because almost immediately as soon as they walk in, Derek is taken back. Stiles catches a nurse and passes along Laura’s message.

Then, he settles in to wait.

He texts his dad for advice. His dad became a parole officer after forced retirement from his deputy position.

His dad sends exactly one text: Leaf i 2 me.

Around that time, a nurse lets Stiles know he can go back and visit with Derek before he is released.

When Stiles enters Derek’s recovery bay, he finds Derek grinning at him. “They gave me muscle relaxers!” he flashes Stiles a thumbs-up and then stares blankly at it.

Well, he certainly is relaxed, Stiles thinks.

He grabs a passing nurse. “What does it seem like he’s drunk?”

“It’s likely a reaction from the other medication he’s on,” she says.

“What reaction?”

“Just sleepy,” Derek says. He chatters nonsensically for a few minutes about mild allergies and having to take something for his PTSD before he appears to fall asleep mid-word.

It worries Stiles, so he asks the doctor to stop by. A few minutes later, the attending physician arrives, examines Derek, and adjusts his meds slightly.

Half an hour after that, Derek is discharged and he and Stiles walk back to the hotel.

Three blocks of silence is more than Stiles can handle, and he blurts, “Your sister told me about Kate.” Derek falters but presses on, and Stiles keeps pace. “Not the full story,” he amends, now that the damage has been done, “but enough to understand how to help you.”

“And how exactly is that?” Derek says coldly. Stiles thinks it’s just because he’s been caught off guard.

“By asking you what you need me to do.”

Derek stops. “Honestly? I don’t want to be alone right now. I-I’m afraid Kate will find me again.”

“Hey, I’m here as long as you need me.”

Derek smiles gratefully. “Thank you.”

That smile, Stiles thinks. That smile could burn the world down around him and he’d thank it. Fast and hard, always. Stiles offers his hand, thrilled when Derek takes it, squeezes gently, and threads their fingers together.

~ * ~

In Derek’s hotel room, Derek goes to shower quickly, fading fast again from the mix of medication.

“A side effect of the Sertraline,” Derek explains as he grabs a change of clothes.

Stiles lies down on the bed and manages to doze off before Derek wakes him up by crawling on top of him.

“Is this okay?” Derek asks before laying his head on Stiles’ chest.

“Is this okay?” Stiles counters, running his hand over Derek’s back.

“Yes,” Derek says, small. They lie like that for nearly an hour before both of their phones start ringing.

Stiles answers his phone, vaguely aware that Derek has rolled to the edge of the bed and is talking to someone he greeted as “Cora.”

Stiles answers his phone.

“Stiles,” his dad says. He sounds worried.

“What’s up?”

“I looked into the Kate Argent situation. Turns out her father paid off a lot of people to get her out. Stiles, she’s dangerous. You need to let the local authorities handle this. Don’t get in the middle of it.”

Stiles looks at Derek, still talking to Cora, a fond smile on his face, and says, “I’m already in the middle, Dad.” He adds, over his dad’s long suffering sigh, “I’ll call the police, okay? You don’t have to worry about us.”

“I’ll worry all I like,” Dad counters. “I love you, son. Call me back in an hour so that I know you’re okay and that you really did call the local police.”

“Will do.”

By the time Stiles hangs up, Derek is done with his phone call too.

“Cora’s in town here,” Derek says, excited. “She works as an MMA fighter. She’s the reason I started my blog.”

“My dad recommends alerting the police about Kate.”

Derek nods, but he visibly deflates. “Okay. I can have Cora come here too.”

“Oh, you were planning on meeting her?”

“Well, yeah, she’s my sister.” Derek shrugged. “I have to be strong for her.”

“It’s okay to be scared and to let Cora see it too. You’re going through something that is frightening.”

Derek looks pensive. “You said Laura told you about me, but I can’t imagine she went into any detail.”

Stiles shakes his head. Derek sits on the bed again, patting next to him. Stiles sits too.

“I met Kate when I was twelve. She was the swimming instructor at my parents’ gym. She started grooming me almost immediately. I used to swim every day, but Kate’s attention made me feel weird, so I tried to stop going. My parents wanted me to be a competitive swimmer, so…”

“They made you keep going,” Stiles finishes.

“Yes. And Kate started the actual abuse then.”

“Hey, what she did before counts too.”

“You tell a judge that,” Derek says. “It wasn’t until she started having sex with me that anyone paid any attention, and that was only because my attitude changed.”

“Laura said that Kate tried to kill you.”

“She did after I told on her when I was a freshman in high school. We’d just learned about sexual health, and I knew she didn’t like using condoms. I was worried that she was trying to get pregnant, so I told my sister, Laura, about what Kate did to me. Kate overheard me and she attacked me.”

“Two years,” Stiles says. “She hurt you for two years, tried to kill you, and now she is free. It’s not fair.”

“I’ve tried to move past it, but it’s been difficult. My blog helps.” Derek ducks his head. “I can share the link with you if you’d like?”

“Only if you’re sure.”

Derek pauses for a few minutes, thinking, before he nods. “I am.” He pulls a laptop out of the bag on the desk. He powers it on, logging in when it loads, and connecting to the hotel’s Wi-Fi. He opens a browser and pulls up a site. Then, he hands Stiles the laptop and curls up on the low backed, armless chair pushed into the corner of the room behind the bed.

Stiles understands a moment later when he scrolls down to the first picture. That is a dildo in Derek’s hand. It’s not as impressive as the red monstrosity Kate shoved in his face earlier, but it’s definitely shaped after a thick, cut cock and includes detachable balls (according to the caption).

It’s a still from a video titled “Finding the Right One.”

Stiles glances at Derek, but he’s got his face hidden in his hands.

“Do you really want me to see this?” Stiles asks. “I don’t need to.”

“I want to share it with you,” Derek says, muffled from behind his hands. “It’s such a large part of my life—this is my job. I just—it’s hard sharing it with someone I know in real life.”

“I understand. This is the first videographer convention I’ve ever attended because I just couldn’t understand that there were people who wanted to meet me. I think I’m dorky and dull, and I ramble when a subject really interests me. I’ve had so many people tell me that my videos brightened their lives or that they felt less alone in the world because they somehow stumbled onto my channel.”

“People tell me that too,” Derek says. “I run my blog on information, making it available to the masses. I’m actually studying to be a therapist. I want to help people, and my blog does that too.”

Stiles closes out of the browser and closes the lid of the laptop. “I’m not going to scroll your blog right now; it’s not the right time.” Derek looks relieved, and Stiles knows he’s making the right choice. “Let’s go visit Cora,” he says. “Maybe that will help make today a little better.”

“What if Kate finds me again? What if she attacks my sister?” Derek sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “No. I’m sorry. I’m just being paranoid. She’s here for her niece. Not me.”

“I’ll keep the police’s number handy,” Stiles promises. “Just in case. We won’t let Kate come near you again.”

~ * ~

Cora is smaller than Stiles expected. She has her long, dark hair pulled into a high ponytail, a pair of overlarge sunglasses atop her head. She latches onto Derek, hugging him tightly while he stands still.

“I missed you,” she says. “Tell me everything.”

“It was mostly the same old thing,” Derek says, pulling out Cora’s chair. Stiles smiles politely when she catches his eye, and then he goes back to scanning the room. He’s spoken with the chief of police and his father, and they’re all looking out for her, so it can’t be too long until she’s apprehended again.

This restaurant is out of the way, but the atmosphere is amazing. Light, airy. It’s almost early evening, but it still feels like midday, in part because there are enough people to fill the tables around them and yet not too many to feel crowded.

Stiles feels confident that should Kate manage to locate them, she won’t make a scene.

Cora and Derek put their heads together and discuss some of the content on Derek’s blog.

“Your new video,” she gushes, “just amazing. My girlfriend tried the method you suggested, and I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

Stiles expects Derek to be embarrassed by the way Cora’s talking, but he seems genuinely interested in her praise.

After they settle their bill and decide to walk back to the hotel, Cora apologizes to Stiles for monopolizing Derek’s time.

Stiles waves away her concern, adding, “You already had plans. I’m just here as insurance.”

Cora looks to her brother for an explanation, but Derek’s gone quiet, staring at an approaching figure. Stiles curses under his breath and pulls out his phone to dial 9-1-1 while he tries to locate any landmarks to aid the dispatcher.

Kate Argent grins at them as they come abreast of her.

“You’re even more handsome than this afternoon,” she says, leaning into Derek’s space and forcing him to stop moving.

“Keep walking, Kate,” Stiles advises, showing her his phone. Kate’s smile drops, and before any of them can react, she pulls a gun from under her jacket and presses it to Derek’s temple.

“What the hell, you bitch,” Cora growls.

“I’m just taking what should have been mine.” Her finger tenses on the trigger.

Stiles is aware he yells, “No!” as loud as he can, but he doesn’t quite know what happens in the next sixteen seconds. When he can breathe again, he notices Kate is on the ground, unconscious, and Derek has the gun. Stiles takes it from him and unloads it.

On the phone, the dispatcher is yelling. Stiles lifts it to his ear.

“Sir, what is the nature of your emergency?”

“I think we need an ambulance.” He gives perfunctory directions before checking on the Hales.

He doesn’t recall hearing the gun discharge, and no one has any holes in them, so Stiles calls it good.

Cora explains then that she kicked Kate in the jaw.

“She’s just unconscious,” Stiles confirms to the dispatcher after checking on her. “She’s breathing fine.”

Once the ambulance and a pair of cop cars respond, it takes them three hours to give their statements, get checked out at the hospital, and head back to the hotel.

Cora gives Stiles tickets to her match tomorrow. Since the convention will be over by then, Stiles tries to decline.

Cora gives Derek a sly grin. “You can share Derek’s room with him since you two seem to get along so well.”

“We barely know each other,” Stiles protests.

“I know you won’t abandon my brother in a crisis,” Cora says seriously. “I know my brother’s been obsessed with your videos forever. I also know he was so disappointed when the organizers scheduled his panel at the same time as yours. Take this time to get to know each other.”

“I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to,” Derek adds. “If you’d rather go home, that’s fine. It’s your decision.”

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

Derek and Cora both nod.

“Thank you.” Stiles embraces both of them, exchanging phone numbers before he walks away, fighting the urge to look back.

Back in his shared room with Scott and Allison, he finds the couple sitting on his bed.

“There you are!” Scott exclaims, running to hug him. “Why didn’t you respond to my texts? We had to call your dad and he said you were fine! Why didn’t you tell us yourself?”

Stiles checks his phone. “What texts?” he asks. He has no new messages from Scott.

Scott looks at him funny. “I sent the first one after Allison said her aunt was here.”

“Yeah,” Allison pipes up. “She got out on good behavior.” Stiles snorts. “Apparently she tried to have sex with a minor almost ten years ago.”

“Oh really?” Stiles says. “Well, I’ve been hanging out with Derek all afternoon after the panel.”

“The guy you wanted to catch?” Scott asks. “How’d that go?”

“Could have been better, could have been worse. Really, I’m just glad I got to meet him. It turns out, Kate and Derek know each other.”

“They’re together?” Scott asks.

Stiles shakes his head. Understanding floods Allison’s face.

“He’s her victim?”

“He’s still her victim. She attacked him again twice today. Right before the couples panel and just a little while ago. My dad says your grandfather paid off a lot of people to get her out.”

“I don’t like my aunt,” Allison protests. “Don’t lump me in with her.”

“Fair,” Stiles says. “Anyway, why did you want to contact me? I told you where I was, didn’t I?” Stiles checks his outgoing messages, finding the text he’d sent to Scott from the bar. “Yeah, see?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. From what Allison’s said about Kate, she’s a horrible person.”

“She is. She’s also going back to jail. She violated her parole today.”

They fall into awkward silence.

Stiles gets his suitcase and starts packing his clothes.

“Where are you going?” Scott asks. “We’re not leaving until tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I’ve been invited to stay with Derek.”

“Seriously?” Allison says. “Stiles, honey, you know we love you, but staying with a stranger is completely out of the ordinary for you.”

“Yeah, but Derek and I have gone through a lot today. Plus, his sister is an MMA fighter and she gave me tickets to her match.”

“Stiles,” Scott says, “this is just like with Lydia Martin. Don’t go.”

“What? How is it like Lydia Martin?” Stiles knows he was obsessed in high school. He’s worked very hard to change that behavior. “How is this anything like Lydia Martin?” he demands. “Didn’t you encourage me to go after him earlier?”

“Yeah,” Scott admits. “But I didn’t think you do this again.”

“What is ‘this’? Tell me, what am I doing that makes you think I’m borderline stalking Derek?”

“Stiles, Derek runs a porn blog. He’s a sex worker. You can’t treat him like a normal person when all you want is what everyone wants: to sleep with a beautiful person.”

“What.”

Allison slaps at Scott’s arm. “Come on, Scott, that was a bit harsh.”

“The.”

“I’m serious,” Scott says. “You didn’t know us in high school. Stiles was totally creepy after this girl in our grade. This thing with ‘Derek’ is just the same as that.”

“Fuck.”

Stiles picks up his bag and stomps to the door. “Seriously, Scott? You think so little of me that you think I’d hang out with Derek, who runs a sex positive blog, just because I want to sleep with him? You _know_ me, Scott. You know I don’t sleep around willy-nilly. It takes time for me to trust someone like that.”

Scott opens his mouth, but Stiles is done. For tonight at least.

“Save it, Scott. You can try again later. Right now, I can’t be here.” He doesn’t slam the door on his way out, but only because they’re in a hotel and it’s late. He doesn’t want to bother the other people staying here.

Thankfully, neither Scott nor Allison follow him back to Derek’s floor.

Derek opens the door before he can knock.

“Did you decide?” he asks, stepping back so that Stiles can pass.

Stiles nods, setting his suitcase next to the desk and Derek’s open laptop.

He needs to vent about Scott’s (and Allison’s) assumptions, but he knows Derek isn’t the person to listen.

“I’m going to stay with you tonight,” he says instead. “We’ll watch Cora’s fight tomorrow. We’ll, have to see where we go after that. I don’t know where you live, but I live in L.A.”

“Right now, I’ve been staying with my sister Laura in New York.” Derek studies Stiles for a long moment before saying, “You need to talk about something. Do you want me to talk to you?”

Stiles shakes his head.

“Maybe Laura?” Derek offers.

Stiles wonders if she’d be off-limits like Derek, but then he remembers that Laura was the one who revealed Derek’s connection to Kate.

“Laura would be good.” He checks the clock, surprised that it’s only a little past 10:00.

“She’s still up,” Derek says, tucking a room key into Stiles’ hand. “She rarely goes to sleep before 1:00 a.m.”

“Thank you,” Stiles says before he steps out. He ends up down by the pool, talking to Laura for nearly an hour. She is properly outraged at the way Stiles’ oldest friend judged him so badly.

Then, just as Laura is yawning and saying she should turn in early since she has a full day ahead of her, Stiles asks her if Derek is planning to move.

“Not that I know,” she replies. “He’s got his whole set up here. Why, did he say something to you?”

“He just seems restless. Maybe with Kate being arrested again, he’s ready to change something in his life.”

Laura hums in his ear. “Perhaps. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. By the way, Stiles.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for all you’ve done for us. It’s so much appreciated. I don’t think I can ever properly thank you.”

“I don’t regret it,” he says. “If I had to do it again, I would.”

“You’re a good person, Stiles.” Laura hangs up in the middle of another yawn. Stiles smiles down at his phone and heads back to Derek’s room.

Cora is on the bed, doing sit ups while Derek reads something out loud to her. Since her hair is wet, Stiles thinks she was in the shower earlier.

Derek pauses when he catches sight of Stiles. “Feel better?” he asks, and Stiles nods.

Cora pats the bed next to her. “Come on, Derek’s just proofing his upcoming blog post.”

Stiles climbs on to the bed, head facing Derek where he’s sitting at the desk. Derek starts over, and Stiles lets his voice wash over him.

He falls asleep, lulled by the even cadence of Derek’s words.

He wakes up to Derek’s face smushed against his chest, warm, damp air ghosting over his throat.

Derek is still fast asleep, snoring lightly. Cora is awake, watching them from the chair in the corner.

“I took a picture of you for your contact pictures,” she whispers. “I need to leave soon for my weigh-in.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Look, my brother is broken. There’s no doubt about that. But, I’ve never seen him happier than he’s been with you.” She plays with a mug of something balanced on her knee, blowing out a breath. “Derek runs a blog about sexual advocacy. Things like sex toy reviews, what lubes work best for which activities. Things that everyone wants to know but no one wants to ask.”

Cora pauses to take a sip. “He started the blog as a way to help me after one of my used-to-be friends raped me. Derek also uses the blog to help others like me—like himself—people that have been hurt, had their bodies used to betray themselves, been raped. The blog goes good work. Please don’t shame him over it.”

“Have many people done that?” Stiles asks, thinking of the adoring crowd surrounding Derek before yesterday’s panel.

Cora nods. “You’d be more surprised by the ones who didn’t. Derek really likes you. I trust you with Derek. Don’t make us regret it.”

“I could never,” Stiles says. “So he runs a sex positive blog, so what? The world needs more people like him.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Cora finished her drink, setting the mug on the table in her reach. “I need to go now. I’ll look for you in the crowd, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Stiles disentangles himself from her brother just enough to hug Cora. “Thank you for trusting me with both your brother and your past.”

Cora hugs him back tightly. “Take care of both of you. Okay, Stiles?” She kisses Derek’s forehead and grabs her bag on her way out.

Stiles slides off the bed, takes her mug to the sink, and washes it. By the time he returns to the bed, Derek is awake.

“Morning,” Stiles says cheerfully.

“Morning,” Derek parrots back. “Where’s Cora?”

“She had to get to her weigh-in, but she didn’t leave without saying goodbye.

Derek rubs at his forehead, like he can still feel his sister’s lips there. “How much time before Cora’s match?”

Stiles checks his phone. “It goes live in two hours, according to the tickets.”

“We’d better get ready now. The event center always fills up quickly when Cora fights. It’ll be hard to get to our seats if we go later.”

~ * ~

The tickets Cora gave them put them ringside. Stiles has never been to a fight before and all the noise and colors are a little intimidating.

“Is it always this loud?” he asks, and Derek shakes his head.

“Most of the time it’s louder,” he says with a grin.

Stiles understands when the two fighters, Cora and another woman enter the ring and the crowd roars, obviously favoring the other fighter.

“Cora is at the top right now,” Derek explains. “Everyone usually wants to see her taken down a notch or two.”

“I hope she wins,” Stiles says.

“She usually does. I think I saw her lose only once and it was to an opponent who was later discovered to be abusing steroids. That loss was vacated, so her record is unbroken again.”

Cora wins the first round handily, and it only gets worse for her opponent from there. After three rounds of this one-sided match, the referee declares Cora the winner. The section behind Stiles and Derek boo loudly, but they’re drowned out by the resounding cheers of the rest of the crowd.

Cora shakes her opponent’s hand, waves to the crowd, and heads back to her dressing room.

Afterward, once the crowd thins out, Stiles and Derek meet her at the bar close to the hotel for a celebratory drink. Cora grins despite her black eye and split lip from the one lucky shot her opponent managed to land, and takes every shot the bartender slams down in front of her.

The night crowd is completely different from the afternoon, and these people love a good fight. Stiles thinks he recognizes the boo-ers from the arena. They buy Cora’s drinks and clap her on the back, so Stiles thinks they just wanted to see her lose, but they don’t actually dislike her. Cora gave better than she got and she deserved her win.

The television above the bar is showing the fight on a loop, and the rowdiest group cheers whenever a hit makes it mark.

Stiles watches it for a few minutes before turning back to Derek. “Looking at that,” Stiles pointed at a replay of Cora delivering a kick to her opponent’s chest, “it’s not hard to see how she was able to stop Kate with one hit.”

“She’s really something,” Derek agrees. “Both of my sisters are. Laura works with education and grants, trying to get more funds where they need to go. She doesn’t ‘win’ as much as Cora, but at the end of the day, she is satisfied with what attempted and tries harder next time.”

“You’re something too,” Stiles says. “You do good work with your blog. You help people.” Stiles sets his beer down, leaning forward. “Cora says you like me.”

Derek blushes and refuses to look up. He does say, “For six years, yeah.”

Stiles pauses in picking up his beer again. “Sorry, what?” Six years ago, Stiles was seventeen, still living at home, and just starting his channel with Scott.

“Six years ago,” Derek repeats. “In April. I think I’ve seen every video you posted.”

Stiles nods. He knows people have watched his videos—he checks the hit counters every so often, but to be faced with someone who’s seen _all_ the videos and still likes him? That’s rare.

“It was actually your videos that gave me the courage to start my blog.”

“My videos?”

“Yeah. You were so brave, posting them where anyone could have seen them, and you were so clever with your skits and your content. Everything was so informative. I told my therapist that I wanted to be as brave as you, and she told me to just do it.”

“How long have you been posting?”

Derek shrugs. “About three or four years now. My URL is ‘hales-underscore-bells.’”

“Those people in the lobby when we were trying to leave yesterday.”

“Yeah. They were at my panel. I don’t mind them usually—I mean, I wouldn’t have been here without their support, but a lot of them are a bit obsessive. I once got a different haircut, and I still haven’t heard the end of it.”

Stiles grabs Derek’s bottle, setting it and his aside. “I have a random question for you.”

“Go for it.”

“Do you want to move in with me? In Los Angeles?”

“We just met yesterday,” Derek says slowly, confused.

“I know. It’s just…it feels like we’ve known each other for long while. I’d really like to know you better.” Stiles starts peeling the label off his bottle, thinking over his words. The blood drains from his face when he realizes what he’s asking Derek.

“I mean, I’m sorry. Obviously you can say no. You have the right to do that. I don’t want to take you away from your support. And I know that there’s tons more to learn about each other. And I want to. Learn more about you.”

“What if you moved out to New York instead? Would you still want to be with me?”

“Yes,” Stiles says without hesitation. “Even if the choices were the sun and the moon, I’d still want to be with you. To see how we could be together.”

Derek ducks his head again, blushing harder as he smiles. “I really like you too,” he says.

Stiles opens his mouth to ask if they can try kissing when he realizes Derek’s tipping his head up, eyes sliding closed. He’s getting ready to be kissed. Stiles moves before the opportunity is lost and promptly pokes his own eye on Derek’s nose. In his shock, he ends up biting Derek’s lip. Derek rears his head back, eyes flying open as he accidentally head butts Stiles.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Derek holding a napkin to his bloody lip and his beer to his forehead. Stiles’ nose isn’t bleeding, but it still feels like a near thing. Plus his eye is watering like a sieve in a submarine.

“So that was a disaster,” he finally says.

Derek nods in agreement, setting his beer down. “Hold still,” he commands. Stiles does and is rewarded by Derek cupping his face and gently pressing his lips to his. It’s so much better than before even if Derek tastes like blood and Stiles’ nose twinges when he breathes a little too hard.

When Derek pulls back, his gaze is dark, focused on Stiles’ lips like he can’t wait to do it again. Stiles seconds that sentiment enthusiastically.

“This could work,” he tells Derek, and Derek agrees by whole heartedly kissing him.

Cora whoops, pointing at them and congratulating them loudly. “They’re so good together,” she slurs to the bartender. He slides her last shot away from her as she declares, “It’s destiny!”

“Destiny,” Stiles repeats, grinning at Derek. “I like the sound of that.”

~ * ~

~ One Year Later ~

Stiles sets the box back on the table to thunderous applause. Leading the cheers, sitting in the front row and wearing the custom t-shirt Stiles made to commemorate their nearly twelve-month anniversary is Derek.

“Thank you,” the curly haired mod from Stiles’ first ever convention says. Stiles tunes her out as she explains rules for the audience. Instead, he focuses on Derek as he picks up his water bottle from under his seat and drapes his convention badge around his neck.

Derek climbs onto the stage, and takes the seat immediately to Stiles’ left. Scott scoots down, taking his name card with him.

It took a while, a lot of discussions and setting each other right in their assumptions, but Scott and Stiles are finally friends again. Allison and Stiles took less time to reconcile, mostly because Allison pulled him aside shortly after Derek moved to L.A. and talked at length about how she wanted to help Kate’s victims overcome the hurdles her aunt had thrown in their paths. For now, Allison is managing Kate’s estates, working towards creating reparations for her victims.

Kate is still behind bars, but she won’t be there forever. It’s a future for which Stiles is preparing.

“Are you ready for this, babe?” Stiles asks.

“Not really, but I’ve got you,” Derek responds.

“Is this a good time to tell you that I’ve never done this panel either?”

“No. It’s never a good time to tell me that! I’m supposed to follow your lead.”

“You’ll do fine,” Scott says. “All you do is answer some questions about how you met, how long you’ve been together, what you do on your channels, whether you collab or share a channel. You’ll take fan questions too, so be prepared for that.”

Stiles wipes his palms on his pants. He’s nervous, but Derek is more nervous than him, which helps him settle.

Allison slips into the chair on Scott’s other side, and the mod begins introducing them.

The panel goes painlessly, and Stiles finds himself relaxing even more. He knows what’s coming when one of the audience, a middle aged man in a khaki jacket and a Dodgers ball cap pulled low over his eyes takes the microphone from a new beanie mod, this one a bored college student.

“I have a question for Derek,” the man says.

Derek frowns, turning his head to look at Stiles. “Isn’t that your…” he trails off, staring at where Stiles is kneeling next to his chair, an open ring box in his hand.

“Derek Hale, will you marry Stiles Stilinski?” Stiles’ father asks.

Derek nods frantically, sliding out of his chair and wrapping Stiles in a tight hug. “Yes,” he whispers, choked, against Stiles’ ear.

The audience erupts into cheers when Scott yells, “He said yes!”

Stiles is thankful they’re behind the table and mostly obscured from sight because the kiss Derek gives him is particularly inspiring.

“We’re staying the extra day, right?” Derek asks, and Stiles nods. “Good. We’ll need it. Now, we have to finish this panel.”

“I did not think this through,” Stiles says to himself as he climbs back into his chair.

Derek hums. “It’ll be worth it though,” he whispers.

“It always is.”

Stiles goes for a quick peck on the cheek, but Derek turns into it, and Stiles’ nose pokes his eye.

“That’s just a disaster,” Stiles sighs.

“Yeah, but it’s ours,” Derek says, hand over his eye. “No taking it back. You _have_ to marry me.”

“Oh absolutely. We just need to practice kissing, so it stops being so altogether wrong.”

“‘All I know is that it makes me feel good now.’ We can practice later. I owe you a poke back anyway.”

“Looking forward to it.”

~ The End ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted to [my Tumblr](http://1989dreamer.tumblr.com/post/172026528445/kissed-altogether-wrong).
> 
> This is un-Beta-ed. I will go over it in more detail shortly. There are possible plot-holes and grammatical errors. These will be fixed later.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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